Apologies for the glitch that caused alerts to go out for parts 4-6. This is the real part four, and the final part in this fic.
Hours had passed since Tonks fled in distress from the dreary basement kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, where Bill Weasley had issued the mother of all ill-timed invitations by asking her and Remus to go on a double date with him and his new girlfriend, not realising that Remus had broken up with her that very morning. Or she'd broken up with him. Somebody had broken up with somebody, but no matter how many times Remus relived the scenario (it must be approaching upwards of a thousand by now), he still could not figure out where it had gone wrong.
In actuality, hours had not passed. It only felt like hours because Remus was sat outside the drawing room, where Tonks was, according to Alastor Moody, holed up with Sirius. The green velvet curtains were drawn over the French doors, which had been made doubly secure with an Imperturbable Charm. (Remus knew because he'd shamelessly tried to use an Extendable Ear, which had failed; but a bonus of Moody's magical eye was that it allowed him to see through Imperturbed objects, and he confirmed that Tonks was, indeed, within, deep in discussion with Sirius.)
Remus wasn't sure which of two things was more responsible for his current state of discomfort. Was it because his love life rested in the hands of a man who'd once tried to convince Lily Evans of all the reasons why she was wrong about James Potter, which had resulted in the mysterious appearance of a parchment bearing the title Ninety-Five Theses on Potter's Self-Indulgence on the bulletin board of the Gryffindor common room? Or was it that Mad-Eye was also staked out in the corridor, his magical eye never leaving Remus even as the other flicked about in constant alertness of their surroundings. Probably Remus ought to be more fearful of being turned into a ferret -- or worse -- as it had taken Lily six years to accumulate so many grievances against James, while Tonks had known him fewer than six months; and Sirius had been forced to grow up since the Theses, during which interval he'd had abundant time for reflection and the cultivation of wisdom.
Of course, Sirius had put Firewhisky on his cornflakes that morning.
It was the dead silence in the corridor that made him most uncomfortable, Remus decided. That, and wide, ornate skirting board dug into the small of his back. Also his bum was decidedly numb from sitting on the hardwood floor. Circumstance would improve greatly if only he could be sure that Mad-Eye didn't hate him second to Death Eaters for making poor Tonks look and act as she had tonight.
Remus asked, conversationally, whether Mad-Eye had Auror business to discuss with Tonks.
The magical eye seemed to narrow on him, and for a moment Remus' heart hung, as though levitated, in his chest, and he gritted his teeth in expectation of a jet of light issuing from the eye like a spell from a wand in a duel.
Of course nothing of the sort happened. Mad-Eye merely gripped his walking stick and grunted (or growled?) by way of response.
Silence seemed golden to Remus, and so three-quarters of an hour dragged by before the French doors swung open and Tonks' stepped out.
Sirius' thin white hand rested on her shoulder, and Remus drew in a sharp breath upon seeing that the delicate skin around Tonks' dark eyes was puffy and reddened. But though he ached inside to be the cause of her overwrought state, he was relieved that she was able to look him in the face, as she had not managed to do at all before now.
"Tonks," he said, getting awkwardly to his feet, stiff from sitting so long on the floor. "Can we talk? I'm afraid you've misunderstood me."
She gave him a watery smile. "That happens when you contradict yourself."
Remus opened and closed his mouth, unable to produce a sound for what had to be a full minute.
At last he croaked out, "How...?" and then, clearing his throat, managed an entire sentence. "When have I contradicted myself?"
Patting his arm, Tonks said, "Talk to me after you've worked it out."
She brushed past him to the staircase, and Mad-Eye followed her, his magical eye rotating in the socket to watch Remus out the back of his head.
"Only don't hurt yourself, Remus," Tonks said over her shoulder as she put her foot on the first step. "Ask Sirius to help you. It'll be like old times, doing homework."
"Homework?" Sirius snorted, still stood behind Remus. "I never did bloody homework, did I, Moony?"
Tonks rolled her eyes at her cousin, then looked once more at Remus, a softness in her expression which he couldn't quite interpret. Was she hopeful he'd have a revelation and change his mind? Or did she just think him a sad, thick sod?
"Cheers, gents," she said, her tone subdued. "Thanks again, Sirius."
And then she looked away, watching her own feet descend the steps.
Mad-Eye's gruff tones drifted upstairs: "Need me to turn Lupin into a ferret for you, lass?"
"I think Remus turns into quite enough things," came Tonks' reply. "That's the problem."
Remus stood looking down from the first storey landing until Tonks' and Mad-Eye's retreating forms vanished around the corner of the winding staircase and their voices were drowned out by the portrait denouncing the "AUROR BLIGHT ON THE NOBLE AND MOST ANCIENT HOUSE OF BLACK" and the "SHAPESHIFTING HALF-BLOOD FREAK SPAWN OF A BLOOD TRAITOR." Walburga was still muttering when the front door shut.
"A problem for you, she meant," said Sirius. "It's not a problem for her. Unless you make it one."
Remus turned, slowly, and saw his friend's tall, gaunt form leaning against the doorframe with his hands shoved into his trouser pockets. The posture contained all the casual, unstudied elegance of a son of the most elite and established family in Wizarding Britain, and no great amount of imagination was required to picture him as the most popular boy at Hogwarts. Yet his grey eyes were rich with the understanding of a longstanding friendship which, all jokes aside, has gained perspective from years of solitary reflection.
"She told you everything," said Remus.
Sirius' shoulder rose slightly in a shrug, his long black hair falling down back. "Dunno. She told me rather a lot. But she is female, so Merlin only knows whether it was everything, or just the really emotional bits."
Exhaling a long and heavy breath, Remus leant back against the banister, watching the fingers of his left hand pick at the chipped gilt of the serpent finial. "She cried."
Tonks cried, and it had not been his fingers that had brushed her tears away.
"A bit," said Sirius. "She did a lot more of gnashing her teeth and punching pillows and kicking things. Put a lovely dent in Mum's old brass waste can."
Remus wasn't particularly pleased by the thought of having frustrated Tonks to committing minor acts of violence, either, but at least it was a more accurate reflecting of her colourful personality than quiet tears.
"I've never been so confused by a woman." Remus uncurled moist fingers from around the ornamental end piece of the banister, and gestured airily behind him, downstairs, in the vague direction of the front door. "Now with this business of me contradicting myself, I'm at even more a loss."
"Think, Moony. What set her off first?"
It was all very well for Sirius to stand there looking smug, Remus wanted to snap back, but he hadn't had the benefit of a heart-to-heart chat with Tonks. He bit his tongue and turned around, peering down into the dimly lit front hall below, suddenly aware of the close, musty air that seemed to refuse to let go of Dung's pipe smoke. He couldn't think in here. He wished very much to walk outside and clear his head with a deep breath of the crisp October night air. But of course Sirius had to stay here, in the dark, and the damp, and the suffocation, so Remus thought as best as he could. Sifting through the memories and emotions of the past ten hours (so little time?) felt sluggish; it was not at all unlike the sensation of trying to fight off the control of the Imperius Curse over the mind.
At last Remus said, "She nearly went off right from the start when I made a joke about Umbridge, but she stopped herself. We went out for coffee, and for a while we were perfectly amiable--"
"Amiable. Is that what they're calling it these days?"
"--which you should know, as she told you everything."
"She did mention she thought everything was tickety-boo, but then you got broody and started talking bollocks about her being quiet on your date."
"I told you," said Remus tightly, his hands wrapping around the railing once more, "I didn't know what she was thinking. What do you propose I should have done, if not ask? Perform Legilimency of her in the coffee shop? And anyway, she did the asking first. She wanted me to tell her what was on my mind, and as what was on my mind was what was on her mind--"
"Have you been drinking?" Sirius' voice lilted with the familiar sound of his amusement. "Only you're starting to sound a hell of a lot like me."
"It's your contagious personality." Remus turned sharply to his left and planted a foot on the next flight of stairs. "As well as the fact that I'm too knackered to discuss this further. Good night, Padfoot."
He began to ascend, but Sirius called up to him.
"Why'd she stop herself going off about Umbridge? That doesn't sound like the feisty Tonks I know. Granted I don't know her half so well as you know her..."
"Who wants to think about Umbridge any more than is necessary?" Remus flung back over his shoulder. "Tonks knows I certainly don't--Oh hell."
He halted on the stairs, his hands on the rail keeping him up right as realisation struck him with the force of a Bludger pounded by a professional Beater.
"Oh bloody buggering hell."
Tonks knew he didn't like talking about Umbridge because it had been the subject of a previous row. Turning on the narrow step, he saw that Sirius had moved from the drawing room doorway to stand at the foot of the stairs. He peered steadily up at Remus, his expression stating clearly that it was about time Remus figured it out, though somehow without a hint of smugness; Sirius' grey eyes were all compassion.
Remus sank down on the second floor landing. Elbows on his knees, he slumped forward, pressing his forehead into the heels of his hands, fingers fisting his hair at the roots.
"I'm a damned fool."
As expected, Sirius didn't refute the statement, though he did climb the stairs to sit beside Remus as he went on:
"She was quiet on our date because I'd told her that talking only makes it worse. She was doing what I asked. She made a conscious effort to change...for me..." Remus actually smiled slightly at the sweetness of it, only to taste bitterness at the sad reminder that he'd lost her. "I was so busy expecting the worst that I missed the best. In fact I made the worst happen because I imagined a recurring problem where there was none at all. Damn it! How could I have been such a fool?"
"I'm buggered if I know," said Sirius. "I assumed you were testing her."
Remus lifted his head. "Testing her?"
Sirius cocked his head to meet Remus' eye. "Zonko's not the first person who's thrown you out of his shop, is he?"
For a moment Remus met the steady grey stare, then he shook his head. He thought he saw the slightest tensing of his mate's jaw before Sirius said, "Rosmerta's not the first person from your past who thought, 'All my life I served Butterbeer to a bloody werewolf and I never knew,' is she? That couple in the pub weren't the first to recognise you and keep as far away as they could, were they?"
"No," said Remus, "to all of the above." An ill feeling clutched at his belly as Sirius' rather roundabout train of thought suddenly veered straight ahead, careening toward logic. "You think I knew there was a chance I'd be treated that way when I took Tonks out, and that I wanted to know how she would react."
Sirius' eyes bent guiltily, and he fidgeted on the step. "For what it's worth, I wouldn't blame you. We all test people in love, don't we?"
"I'm not sure I did it consciously. But at some level I must have done."
"Conscious test or not," said Sirius, accompanied by the creaking of the step as he stood and moved to lean against the banister, "the girl passed."
Remus smiled faintly. "With flying colours."
He, unfortunately, had crashed, probably more spectacularly than any Quidditch player had ever done.
After a moment, Sirius asked, "What are you going to do, then?"
Remus raked his hands through his hair, tugging again because his head ached, then swept his fingers back to rub the base of his neck.
"I've no bloody idea." Sighing, he hunched onto his elbows again. "For starters I owe her one hell of an apology."
"She told me she wanted a walk home," said Sirius. "You could go after her. Tell her you made a mistake."
"It doesn't change anything. Tonks deserves to go out with someone who doesn't come with the constant risk of public humiliation." He looked up at Sirius. "Flying colours or not, the test she passed didn't include her being ridiculed and shunned for being out with a werewolf. Frankly, it's something I'd rather not test, if it can be avoided. I couldn't bear to see her treated as anything less than she deserves." A single puff of ironic laughter pushed out from his throat. "This, of course, assumes she will forgive me and want to get back together. The latter I cannot conceive of."
"Why would she want you to have a think and get back to her if she didn't want that? And don't give me one of your smart-arse jokes," Sirius continued, hastily, when Remus pushed himself up from his seat on the landing, his mouth open in reply. "Torture's not her style. Her aunt's, yes, but you've nothing to fear from Tonks."
"I think I'll turn in," said Remus.
Sirius blocked his path to the next flight of stairs, stretching his arms across.
"Padfoot--"
"I'm not finished with you, Mister Moony."
Remus folded his arms across his chest, but reasoned that since he hadn't accomplished a thing on his own today but work himself into a jolly good mope and hurt Tonks even worse than he had that morning, he needed all the help he could get. "I'm listening."
"Do you want a girlfriend or don't you?"
"Yes, of course, b--"
"If you say but, I'll Silence you. The D-word's out, as well."
"Damn?"
"Deserve. I've heard you go off about that Umbridge bitch--"
"The two words combine quite nicely into Umbitch."
"--telling her and her fucking legislation where they can go, and in those words, too. So I know you don't believe you deserve less than other people."
Remus had known he would live to regret that first night he'd stayed in Grimmauld Place with Sirius, when the Firewhisky and his words had flowed too freely. Despite the fact that Remus harboured the same sentiment now, perhaps with an even stronger conviction in light of the happiness that had tantalised him in the pink-haired form of Nymphadora Tonks, he commanded himself to maintain the cool head he had not that night in June, which had enabled Sirius to use his own words against him.
"I appreciate it, Sirius, really I do, but this isn't about what I believe. It's about the way things are."
"Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe it's not the way things are? That maybe because someone like Tonks thinks well of you, other people will begin to look past the werewolf thing as well?"
Tempting as it was to let himself look at the problem from this angle, and let himself slip into the belief that it wasn't a problem at all, experience had taught Remus that he could not delude himself again. For a while it might be wonderful, but reality always reared its ugly head. For Tonks' life, he wanted nothing but beauty.
"Dumbledore's good opinion of me didn't count for much, did it?"
"I think more of Tonks' opinion than Dumbledore's."
As Remus un-crossed his arms, his fingers curled tightly into fists. He felt control slipping away almost as if the moon had waxed full. Digging his nails into his palms, he pressed his hands to his sides and spoke through clenched teeth. "I know you don't mean that."
"Don't I?"
The defiance in those steely eyes took Remus back in time to a scene very like this -- right down to taking place on the staircase leading up to the boys' dormitory -- when Remus had been trying to talk Sirius out of running away from home as he planned when the Hogwarts Express delivered them to London. They might have traded the same words then, just as Remus had also seen behind Sirius' bravado a raw pain, deep confusion, and fear he would rather die than admit to, and which to mention would have shamed him.
Remus' temper left him as he let out his breath, though not a muscle in his body relaxed. "Let's disembark that train of thought before we both say something we regret, shall we?"
Sirius looked away and, with an indifferent shrug of his shoulders, turned to mount the stairs to the third story. Remus followed close behind, though his body that hadn't had proper sleep in nearly two weeks protested the rapid movement.
"You may have a point about Tonks' reputation proving advantageous to mine," he said, "but you must understand my reluctance to take that risk. You know better than anyone what it is to desire to protect the people you care about from the parts of yourself you cannot escape."
Sirius stopped so suddenly on the landing that Remus nearly collided into his back. Head falling forward, long black hair hiding his profile, Sirius' hunched posture became very rigid as he gripped the banister with one hand and the handrail on the wall with the other; his knuckles turned white under the flickering light from the sconce above. Remus pleaded silently in tempo with his pounding heart that he hadn't gone too far. Sirius hadn't talked about Rosmerta in fifteen years. Had his heart forgotten the ache of her? Or was the wound raw?
His voice sounded very much the latter when he said, "I should go and feed Buckbeak," and, without a glance at Remus, continued straight ahead from the landing rather than turning up the final flight of stairs that lead to his and Remus' bedrooms.
"Please, Padfoot," called Remus, going up after him. "Don't shut yourself up like this. It's bad enough I mucked things up with Tonks. I don't want to row with you as well."
Hand on the doorknob, Sirius peered out of the shadows. The wan light of the lamps on the landing threw into relief his sharp features, casting shadows into the gaunt hollows of his cheeks. The eyes that stared out of the face gleamed silver, but didn't look directly at Remus, so his expression remained unreadable, and when Sirius spoke, Remus thought the thickest prison walls might have been between them.
"You know I've wondered whether James wasn't right."
Remus hesitated to reply, flicking back through the past several minutes to recall which thread of conversation Sirius had picked up, although this might be a non sequitur. James had said so many things, and been right about most of them.
Unlike himself.
"James might have been right about Rosmerta?" he ventured.
Sirius hmmed and shoved a hand into his pocket. "That I should've let her decide about our relationship and all that. Although I suppose it worked out for the best, anyway. It might've been her husband who sold his friends and murdered twelve Muggles and was sentenced to Azkaban for life."
Before Remus could reply, Sirius turned the doorknob and ducked into the dark master bedroom in a single swift movement. As if there was any reply to such a statement, made by a man who was prisoner to a heart and mind more impenetrable than Azkaban. Remus felt a heavy coldness to the tips of his fingers as he wondered whether Sirius would ever be free of the shackles of misplaced trust in Peter, and guilt that couldn't' run deeper if he had betrayed the Potters and killed all those people. Even if he got out of Grimmauld Place, got to be the godfather he wanted to be to Harry, would his life sentence ever be repealed?
Wearily, he placed his foot on the last set of steps to go up to bed, but stopped again when Sirius' voice drifted up to him.
"I don't know what to tell you, Moony."
Remus turned back, wanting to tell Sirius, who he couldn't see in the darkness, that he didn't need to tell him anything, because this whole thing was so stupid, so insignificant, but his throat was so tight that words failed him utterly.
Sirius went on, "Just...if you're ever going to get the balls to expect the best from someone, I think it ought to be Tonks. Sleep on it, okay?"
Remus nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Padfoot."
"Night."
Climbing the final flight of stairs to his bedroom -- Regulus' old room, hung all in Slytherin green with newspaper clippings about Voldemort and the Death Eaters affixed to the walls with permanent sticking charms -- Remus expected, in spite of the fatigue that went all the way to the depths of his bones, to lie awake all night, mulling over Sirius' troubles, and all Sirius had advised about his own. However, he fell asleep almost the instant his head touched the feather pillow.
When he woke the next morning, he knew what to do.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic," a serene female voice filled the dilapidated telephone box in which Remus stood. "Please state your name and business."
He hesitated, and then, glimpsing the distorted figure of a wizard in a rubber rain cloak battling an umbrella that threatened to blow out on him in the strong and chilly October wind through the rain-streaked glass panes of the phone box, Remus cleared his throat and stated, "Remus Lupin, here to bring a gift to..."
He swallowed. He'd nearly said my girlfriend, but Tonks was not his girlfriend anymore. But he could not bring himself to refer to her as his ex-girlfriend, and even friend didn't go far enough to express what she meant to him. So he said, though he wasn't sure why an accurate description mattered to an enchanted voice, "To a young lady in the Auror office who I hope will forgive me for being a fool and be my girlfriend again. Nymphadora Tonks."
"Thank you," said the cool voice. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."
A series of clicks and clanks from within the telephone apparatus momentarily produced a square silver badge etched with the gleaming words Remus Lupin, Werewolf, Auror Headquarters.
Feeling slightly breathless, he picked it up with trembling fingers, scuffing his thumb across the smooth metallic badge. Was it just his imagination, or was werewolf a little larger, a little brighter, than the rest of the text? He'd avoided the Ministry since the public nature of his resignation from Hogwarts had forced him to register with the Werewolf Registry, but well he recalled the shame burning in his chest as he'd pinned the badge that read simply Remus Lupin, Werewolf Registry to the breast pocket of his suit, chosen to make the best human impression he could on such an occasion -- the best unremarkable human impression, that was; he'd dressed in the hope that no one would look too closely at the grey-haired man of average height wearing the nondescript grey suit, and therefore would not notice his destination or recognise him from the photographs in the Daily Prophet as the werewolf teacher who'd been much too close to their children for the past year.
At least then there had been the chance that someone might think he worked for the Werewolf Registry. Now he was, undoubtedly, a werewolf, and it made him feel decidedly sick to his stomach, as well as a touch feverish. The tissue paper-wrapped lump in his pocket felt heavy enough to strain the seams of the old garment, and yet he knew it was grossly inadequate for the feelings he wished it to express. Even if Tonks appreciated the thought behind his poor offering, and wasn't ashamed to have calls paid on her by a man whose status as a werewolf was printed for all to see, she might be upset by the badge itself, and the discrimination it stood for, which she herself had declared a humiliation.
"Oi!" A muffled voice from behind the phone box drew Remus' attention outside again, just in time to see a large hand ball into a fist and rap on the door. "Put on the bloody badge and stop 'oldin' up the line, alrigh'?"
Remus waved his hand in apology and pinned the badge to his black cloak. He couldn't not; and wearing a badge was such a little thing in comparison to how he'd hurt Tonks.
But he nonetheless stared down at the nametag, so shiny against the faded fabric of his cloak, sure that werewolf was, indeed, the most noticeable word and would be obvious from a distance. He was so intent on imagining himself walking through the Atrium as other visitors and Ministry employees shrank back from him in fear and revulsion, that he hardly heard the voice in the phone box instructing him to present his wand at the security desk for registration, the grinding noise as the telephone box lurched and proceeded downward into the Ministry, until a glaring light rose suddenly up from the floor. As he blinked against it, the images he'd conjured in his mind's eye faded, and he heard the placid female voice, on behalf of the Ministry of Magic, bid him a pleasant day, which both surprised and buoyed him; his thoughts had been dark enough that even an enchanted voice shouldn't have afforded a known werewolf any particular courtesy.
And, thankfully, the Ministry Atrium on a Friday afternoon was too bustling a place for anyone to give an unremarkable man in a plain black travelling cloak a first glance, much less a second. An elderly witch came out of one of the many Floos and slipped in a puddle that had dripped off a visitor's umbrella. She skidded into Remus, who caught her round the waist and kept her upright, but didn't really look at him as she apologised and thanked him for breaking her collision course. Remus made it all the way to the security desk without further incident.
There, the scruffy blue-robed wizard who was working the Daily Prophet crossword and whose nametag read Eric only raised an eyebrow at Remus' visitor's badge as he waved a Probity Probe over Remus' front and back.
"You don't look like a werewolf," he commented.
Remus thanked him and handed over his wand for inspection.
"But what's a werewolf got to do in the Auror division?" Eric asked as he placed Remus' wand in the Wand Weigher. "I never saw one go anywhere but the Registry or Support Services."
"A woman," Remus replied.
Eric's mouth fell open as the Wand Weigher vibrated and buzzed on the security desk. When it spat out a slip of parchment, Eric closed his mouth and shook himself.
"Well, to each her own," he said. "Reckon Aurors find us ordinary blokes right bores for their sense of adventure and danger." Picking up the parchment produced by the Wand Weigher, he looked Remus over again. "But once again you hardly look like a dangerous adventure."
"And once again, I thank you," said Remus as civilly as he could manage, though he was beginning to feel a little annoyed at this fellow's tweaks at his virility.
As Eric read the Wand Weigher's assessment, Remus looked surreptitiously under the edge of the security desk and was pleased to see a bluebell-coloured lump stuck there. Without a doubt, a wad of Drooble's Best Blowing gum. Looked fairly fresh, too.
"Ten and a half inches, ash..." Eric's voice pitched higher, squeaking like an adolescent's. "W-wolf hair core? Been in use twenty-four years. That correct?"
"Yes. Now do you believe I'm a werewolf?"
Eric thrust the wand back at Remus as if afraid it would curse him of its own accord. If only he knew what awaited him.
"Thank you, Eric," said Remus. "Have a nice weekend." He pretended to tuck his wand into his cloak as he turned away, but gave it the slightest of flicks and muttered, "Waddiwasi."
"Ow!" cried Eric a second later. "What the bloody...Gum?"
Remus longed to see the confusion on Eric's scruffy face as he mined for the wad of Drooble's Best up his nostril, but was contented to listen to the struggle and the laughter of others as he sniggered to himself all the way to the lifts.
Not wanting to press his luck with the telling name badge, Remus slipped into an empty lift as the grille was closing, and rode in solitude down to level two. He stepped out into the corridor as the same female voice as from the telephone box announced, "Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration services," which made him realise he didn't actually know where Auror Headquarters were located. Luckily, he ran into Arthur coming out of one of the many doors lining the corridor, though of course he had to pretend he didn't know him when he asked for directions.
"Just round the corner," said Arthur helpfully, gesturing with a shoulder as his arms were full of file folders (intelligence for the Order?). "Through the pair of big oak doors. There'll be a sign."
Remus thanked him and moved in the direction Arthur had indicated, feeling awkward at not being able to make small talk, or offer a proper goodbye. He wished he had a cover for knowing him -- his for Tonks was that he was a friend of Mad-Eye's and had met her at a gathering.
But Arthur called, "You're that Defence teacher, aren't you? Professor Lupin?"
"Just Remus."
He turned back to shake Arthur's hand, and noticed a gleam not unlike the one that came into the twins' eyes when they were circumventing the rules.
"Arthur Weasley. My kids liked you a lot. My wife and I would love to have you around for tea sometime."
"I'd like that," said Remus. "Thank you, Arthur. Please give Mrs. Weasley my regards."
"I will. And good luck with the Aurors."
"Why, do I need it?" Remus joked, though his heart had sped up, quickening as he made his way down the corridor to the Auror office.
He was holding his breath by the time he reached the double doors Arthur had described, though he let it out in a grunt as he leaned into the heavy oak to push them open. And then he couldn't be nervous because he was too busy being startled by a woman's Irish brogue:
"Look alive there, lad!"
Remus just saw the point of a violet paper aeroplane aimed straight for his eye when a pair of feminine hands shoved him out of the line of fire. Already off-balance from opening the door, Remus fell.
"Mother of Merlin, I'm sorry!" said the Irish woman, offering him a hand up.
Remus accepted it and was pulled to his feet by a red-robed witch wearing a patch over her left eye, which she gestured to with her free hand.
"But sure you should be glad to have bruised your bum and not had one of your lovely blue eyes gouged out! Auror department memos are lethal bastards."
She paused, and Remus wondered whether she were waiting for him to express sympathy for the loss of her eye. Trouble was, he was hung up on the question of whether a person really could lose an eye to a paper aeroplane. Although, he'd certainly feared for his when he'd seen it coming at him.
The witch cackled and clapped his shoulder.
"Merlin love you! I should hope I had a better story than a paper aeroplane in exchange for my eye!" She laughed for a moment, then wiped a tear from the corner of her right eye. "And I do. Took a Gougin' Spell last summer chasin' a baddie. Arsehole got himself an additional ten years in Azkaban for assaultin' an Auror. I'll be gettin' a proper magical eye like Alastor Moody's once I've finished the treatment regimen at St. Mungo's. And here I am yammerin' your ear off, while you aren't havin' the foggiest who I am! I'm Eileen. Eileen O'Sullivan."
She pumped his hand, which she still grasped, vigorously. Remus expected her to drop it like a cursed object as her eyes dropped to his visitor's badge.
She did look up at him in astonishment and say, "Merlin and Morgana! You're Remus Lupin? Tonks' Remus Lupin? The travellin' one?" but she kept hold of his hand.
He nodded.
"Well I'm just thrilled to meet you at last! And Tonks'll be thrilled to see you, that's for sure and certain."
"Only she's not here," came a booming voice, and the broad frame of Kingsley Shacklebolt was suddenly visible over the top of a nearby cubicle. "Lupin."
Remus swallowed and nodded in greeting. He sensed that though he and Kingsley also had to hide their degree of acquaintance, Kingsley's stiffness now was genuine in regard to Tonks. But at least the entire Auror squad didn't seem aware that, as Sirius had put it, all was not fair in love and war. That Tonks hadn't seen fit to let the world know how badly she'd been treated by her loser of an ex-boyfriend gave him some hope that he could mend things with her.
"I have something for her," said Remus, drawing the pink tissue-wrapped bundle and a card from his cloak. "Could I leave these on her desk?"
"'Course, darlin', and I'll show you where it is!" chirped Eileen, tugging him toward the end of the first row of cubicles.
"No guarantee she'll be back in today," said Kingsley, watching Remus being pulled along by O'Sullivan.
Rufus Scrimgeour's recruitment strategy, Remus decided, must be to only accept women onto the Auror squad who were impossible to say no to. (And who were rather rough and tumble, the hip he'd landed on when she knocked him out the way of the paper aeroplane prompted him to add.) Really, he didn't know why he'd thought he could get away with breaking up with Tonks. That was, if she hadn't been the one who'd done the breaking up.
"Here we are," said Eileen as they rounded a corner and stepped into an aisle between rows of cubicles. "Though you probably coulda guessed from all the Weird Sisters paraphernalia about. Me, I like the Hobgoblins, which has nearly driven Tonks and me to duellin' on more than one occasion. But I won't disturb you if you want to write her a note. Lovely to meet you, Remus Lupin!"
And then Eileen was gone, and, except for an Auror with wiry grey hair one cubicle over leaning back in his chair to pop his head around the divider to see who had business with Tonks, Remus found himself alone in her cubicle. His disappointment at her absence ached more acutely than any emotion he'd felt since he set foot in the telephone box outside the Ministry.
He started to lay his card and gift on her desk, but hesitated when a paper aeroplane soared over the top of the cubicle, did a loop-the-loop, and then alit on the mass of clutter. How many of these messages had come in since Tonks left the office? Would his note be swallowed up in a sea of memos? Would she even sort through them, or simply sweep the lot off into the dustbin without reading? Even if she did find it, was this sort of apology better made in person?
Shaking his head against the thoughts -- the excuses -- he'd already considered and argued against a million times before he'd got out of bed at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, he stood the pink tissue paper-wrapped gift against a dusty framed photograph at the corner of the desk of a plump blond man with Tonks' dark eyes and a brown-haired woman who, at first glance, looked alarmingly like Bellatrix Lestrange. He leant his card against the present, and cast a charm over both that would keep them from being buried by incoming paperwork. Tonks would read his written apology -- written in part to make up for not having written to her during his ten days away -- and then he would speak to her. His plan stood whether he handed her the card in person or she found it like this.
In the Atrium, Eric waved Remus over to the security desk. Remus hesitated, wondering if Eric could have sussed that he was responsible for the gum up his nose, but then Eric called, "Oi! How'd id go wid your Auror, den?"
Somehow in the midst of laughing to himself that Eric hadn't got all the gum out of his nose, Remus considered his answer.
"I think it's going to be okay," he said, and meant it.
He would have preferred to have seen her, but as he handed over his visitor's badge, he felt better than he had in the day that had passed since his row with Tonks, and indeed, in all the time since their Hogsmeade date.
And as he gave the badge one last glance, he decided that werewolf was no more prominent than any other word on the silver name plate.
Remus would have been lying if, when an entire day, plus a few hours, passed without word from Tonks, he'd said that he felt just as okay about the fate of his relationship with Tonks as when he said it to Eric the security wizard. His confidence had, indeed, wavered slightly -- but not to the extent that he sat in Grimmauld Place growing old and grim moping about it. His resolve that it was up to him to make things right with Tonks remained unshaken by time and silence. Saturday evening found him on the doorstep of her London flat, dressed in his best.
He'd found a midnight blue jumper in at the bottom of his bureau, forgotten because the elbows needed darning. It was a good colour on him, he thought, and most importantly, Tonks hadn't seen him in it before. It had mended tolerably, and rolled-up sleeves covered a multitude of fashion sins, he'd learnt. With his white shirt underneath and pressed brown trousers, he looked presentable for a night with friends. He hadn't shaved, because Tonks liked him scruffy, but he thought he looked like he'd made an effort for her. His heavily patched travelling cloak did considerably less for the overall look, but it had been too cold to go without. Hopefully the pink chrysanthemum bouquet he'd spontaneously picked up for her at the market when he stopped for a bottle of red wine (now Reduced and residing in one of the deep pockets of the cloak) would distract from his shabby outerwear.
Not that he was here to indulge his vanity, even if Sirius would say Remus' vanity could do with a little indulgence. Or a lot of indulgence. Whatever he could do with, this was about Tonks.
And them.
He very much hoped there was still a them.
Remus drew a deep breath, then let it out, slowly, to steady his wild pulse. He raised his hand, which he was relieved to see had stopped shaking, and poised to rap on the door marked #115 in bright brass numerals.
At the groaning sound of pipes from within the wall, his hand paused mid-knock; he very nearly beat his head against the door instead. He'd been very patient about missing Tonks at work, and even more so about her not getting in touch with him, because he knew the Quaffle was still at his end of the Quidditch pitch. Now that he'd drawn from the deep well of his Gryffindor courage and come here, if he lost another chance to speak to her because she was in the bloody shower--
The unmistakable shrill of bagpipes blasted through the wall, making him jump as drums and rhythm guitar thumped along in counterpart to the pipes, now joined by the lead guitar. Leaning toward the door, Remus was almost sure he could pick out a high female voice singing along with Myron Wagtail, and, the momentary irritation falling away, he grinned. He wasn't exactly a Weird Sisters buff, but he'd lay a few Sickles (as short as he was) on their not having any female band members. So the sound of pipes must have been the shower shutting off, and now Tonks was singing along to her wireless. Excellent. He would be speaking to her very shortly.
That was, as soon as he cleared his mind of the image of Tonks, just out of the shower, translucent beads of water dripping from wet pink hair and rolling over the milky white curves of her body, dancing.
It was no easy task while he was able to hear her piping voice, and occasionally her stumbling, through the thin apartment wall. Eventually he managed it by remembering how she'd looked two days ago at the Order meeting, so pale against her oddly coloured, tired looking ponytail, unable to meet his eye and drained of her usual vivacity and laughter. His fingers slackened around the flowers that her lack of response to his note might mean she still had no desire to see him. Perhaps he ought to forget all about this and leave her be...
No. He shook his head. Even if it did mean that, he still had to face her. And anyway, dancing (naked) about one's flat generally didn't indicate depression, did it?
Tightening his grip on the chrysanthemum bouquet, the plastic wrap crinkling in his grasp, he rapped the knuckles of his free hand on the door.
There was a second of blaring rock and roll during which Remus wondered if he ought to knock again, with a Sonorus Spell, when Tonks shouted, "Hang on, I'm coming!" The Weird Sisters went silent, and then in place of the drums her feet were pounding through the flat at an irregular, clumsy tempo. There was a thunk, and then a curse; just as Remus was wondering what she'd had knocked over this time, or whether something had knocked her over, the door swung open and he found himself stood face to face with Tonks, her chest heaving beneath a knee-length black silk dressing gown with a gigantic magenta floral print that was sliding off one shoulder. And either her bra strap was falling down, as well, or Tonks wasn't wearing a bra.
Remus swallowed.
Apparently his gaze had dropped downward, to the opening of the dressing gown, held closed around her by only a loosely tied sash at her slender waist, as Tonks' hand suddenly shot up to pull it up over her shoulder and across her cleavage. He looked up, took in short, tousled brown hair that must have been towel dried, and a heart-shaped face glowing from her recent shower. She wore no makeup, but her lips were very red. God, she'd never looked more beautiful to him, and he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and kiss her soundly.
But, for the moment, all his lips did was smile, nervously, and say, "Hello, Tonks."
"Wotcher," said Tonks, and then she said nothing else, but merely stood there, her expression unreadable, except that it was undeniably expectant of an explanation for his appearance.
"I'm sorry," said Remus, "I should've Flooed first. Are you going somewhere?"
An eyebrow rose on Tonks' forehead as if this were a very stupid question. "Arthur and Molly's."
"Ah. You're still going, then?"
The corner of Tonks' mouth hitched upward in something like amusement as she nodded.
Remus knew he was being very thick, but he couldn't help himself. His mouth and throat had gone very dry; all the moisture, he thought, had gone to his hands, which were sweating profusely. He wiped the palm of his free hand on his cloak and hoped Tonks didn't notice.
"Me, too," he said. "In fact I hoped we could go together."
Whether this pleased Tonks or not, her face provided no clue. Which made him feel all the more foolish for having accused her of difficulty in concealing her emotions. She'd made her point.
"Go together," Tonks repeated. "As in, fly together? Or Floo together? Or Side-along Apparate? Or are you even talking about modes of transportation?"
"No. Go together, as in Remus Lupin, werewolf, and Nymphadora Tonks, Auror, Metamorphmagus, and simply amazing witch, a couple. Together. Again."
His heart hung in his chest, not beating, and still Tonks neither spoke nor moved beyond the faintest upward curve of her lips, and a quick blink that, he thought, softened her eyes.
He stepped closer to her. "Tonks..."
No, that wasn't right. He offered her the bouquet, and she accepted it, drawing the bright blossoms to her nose, but not dropping her gaze from his.
"Dora..."
He couldn't resist raising his hand to brush the backs of his fingers across her smooth cheek; she shivered at his touch, but didn't flinch away, and he indulged himself in raking his fingers back into her damp hair. She smelt like raspberries.
"I've been such an idiot," he said.
"Fool," Tonks said. "You said fool in your letter."
Oddly the word didn't cut him. "You did get it, then."
"And that Herman Wittingham bobbing head doll." Tonks' small smile stretched across her face as a full grin that made Remus think outside, the sunlight must have pierced the thick autumn clouds. "Where on earth did you find him?"
"The bargain bin at Gambol and Japes. The lute works, did you see?"
"It's brilliant," Tonks told him, laughing. "And comes with the added bonus of annoying the hell out of Dawlish."
Remus chuckled, but as he continued to let Tonks' hair slide through his fingers, he became serious. "It's naff, I know, and certainly doesn't make up for what a fool I've been...But I hoped it would make you laugh and maybe...forgive me. At least a little bit."
Her smile softened, and her hand covered his cupping her face and pressed his palm against her cheek. "It did, and I do forgive you. A hell of a lot more than a little bit."
He leaned in to her, but rested his forehead against hers instead of kissing her because he remembered she had not yet told him what she thought in regard to the future of their relationship.
"Thank you," he murmured. "And...us?"
"I want an us." Tonks stroked the back of his hand, and her dark eyes looked deeply into his. "But I've got to know what you want of me, Remus."
"Just you," he said. "Just as you are."
He hoped she knew that he meant beautiful, and wonderful, and remarkable, and he nearly told her, when the hair between his fingers turned deep pink. Approximately the shade of her smiling lips. It rendered him momentarily quite speechless, and so he brought his other hand up, stroking his thumb lightly over her full lower lip, which distracted him from that particular train of thought.
"Do you know," he said, hoarsely, "it's been thirteen days since I kissed you?"
"One of the more foolish things you've done."
"I concur..."
His lips had just begun to melt into hers when something between them crunched.
"Oh, my flowers!" Tonks cried out, pulling back from him. "I never thanked you for them. I love mums."
"Kissing is thanks enough."
Laughing, Tonks pecked him on the lips, then grabbed his hand and pulled him into the flat. "I'll kiss you thanks as soon as I get these in water. And anyway," she added, pushing the door shut behind them as Remus shrugged out of his cloak, "I don't know about you, but I think after thirteen days without kissing, we need rather more privacy than the hall..."
Her arms had gone around his neck as she spoke, and as they kissed again, the bouquet slipped from her hands and fell to the floor with another crinkle of paper.
Before Tonks could move away again, Remus said softly against her mouth, "Bugger the flowers. They'll keep."
Tonks giggled, but didn't stop kissing him. She buried her fingers in his hair, which he wished Molly had left long enough for Tonks to fist as he'd got used to. But as her lips opened and closed eagerly against his, and her tongue traced the inner edge of his lip and then slid alongside his tongue, it rather distracted him from what was or wasn't going on with his hair.
They were standing in the little tiled entryway of the flat, but it wasn't long before Remus felt that the position didn't allow him to pull her nearly as close against him as he would like. Her face was cupped in his hands, but now one hand slid down the sleeve of her silk dressing gown, skirting her hip before slipping round her slender waist to settle at the small of her back; the other dallied at her neck, fingers skimming beneath the gown to stroke the warm skin of her collarbone.
Holding Tonks firmly against him, he took steps backward until he met with the arm of the sofa, then side-stepped, so he could sink down onto the squashy cushions, pulling her into his lap.
Her gasp broke the kiss, and, opening his eyes in alarm at whatever misstep he'd made, he saw that in the process of relocating to the sofa, his hand had caused her sleeve to fall completely down her arm, exposing one small, round breast and answering his earlier unvoiced question about her bra.
"I'm so sorry, Dora! I solemnly swear, I'd no intention of tearing your clothes off you."
Remus lifted the fabric to cover her, but rather undermined the gallant effort with an inability to lift his gaze from the pale mound with its hardened pink nipple. Good God, his fingers had never twitched more to touch something, though of course he must not.
But what was this? Her fingers wrapping around his hand, loosening her sleeve from his grasp, drawing his hand up to -- dear Merlin -- rest on her breast. She wanted him to touch her.
And touch her he did, covering her mouth once again with his as he shifted to lay her back on the sofa and straddle her. He leaned over her, her breasts filling his hands, his thumbs stroking her nipples as they kissed. He'd never known what it felt to touch a woman like this, not only physically, but also in his heart to feel that she welcomed this intimacy from him, made the most delightful sighs and moans in response to his fingers.
His own low sounds mingled with hers when he felt her hand slip under the back of his jumper. When she tugged his shirttail out from his trousers so she could run her fingers up his back, he realised that he was still not close enough to her. Her bare skin was heaven cupped in the palms of his hands, but he wanted to feel her against all of him. He broke their kiss, and withdrew his hands from her just long enough to sit up and tug his jumper off.
Hand on the top button of his shirt, he paused and looked at Tonks, stretched out beneath him. The dressing gown was crumpled around her waist, and her skin, though flushed, was so beautifully fair against the red cushions of the sofa. If Remus never did anything again but look at her, he would be a happy man. But Tonks, apparently, wanted him to be doing more than looking, or wanted to do a bit of looking herself, because she sat up slightly and unfastened his button herself. She grinned and then sat even more upright to press a kiss to the hollow of his throat as she continued unbuttoning him. When her tongue darted out to taste his skin, he groaned, and instinctively dipped his head to kiss her neck in response.
He kissed a downward trail, lingering in the hollows of her collarbone. His stubble made a small scratching sound against the top of her breast. He pushed her down onto the sofa again to make her breasts more accessible to his lips.
But just as he nuzzled the gentle valley between them, before he could taste her, he felt the heave of her chest beneath him. He became aware of his own ragged breaths, and amid them and the surge of blood in his ears, he heard the frantic beating of her heart, which rather alarmed him until he realised his own must be beating twice as fast. She was pushing his open shirt off his shoulders, but he sat back before she could divest him of the garment.
"This is..."
His voice was husky, and he drew a deep breath, realising as air rushed into his lungs that he hadn't really breathed since she opened the door to him. All his hopes of a relationship with any woman (because if he could not make this work with her, he couldn't conceive of any other being up to the task), though especially with Tonks, had rested on his not mucking up this crucial confrontation. And he was such a relief to know that he had not lost her, that after thirteen long days -- the last two eternal -- they could kiss like that, that he had touched her like that...
"it's amazing, being with you like this, Dora," he said, not precisely feeling more composed, "but I think, in light of current events, we're getting a little ahead of ourselves."
Tonks' forehead dimpled in flattering disappointment, and Remus, nearly wavering, thinking of how Sirius would say that there was no such thing as getting ahead of oneself when one had been seeing a girl for as long as Remus had been seeing Tonks. Most probably he would have something to say about make-up sex, as well. While Remus, though a novice, thought make-up sex probably did have its merits, it hardly seemed right that the first time ought to occur under such circumstances.
"I think..." He pulled Tonks to sit up beside him on the sofa, and drew her dressing gown over her lovely figure (not without a parting glance at the pair of breasts he was sure he would be imagining all the time now). Tucking one leg under him, he turned so that he could look her in the eye, and took her hands. "...we have some trust to rebuild."
Meeting his gaze steadily, Tonks nodded. "I trust you, Remus. But I wonder if you trust me. I know I'm young, and I know I've got a fair bit to learn, but you seem to think I'm going to do something stupid, and that's not fair."
"No," said Remus heavily. "It's not fair. You're an Auror, and one of the most capable I've known, at that. I met your colleague Eileen, by the way."
Tonks sat up, her eyes aglow, and squeezed his hands. "Did you, really?"
"I did," he said, his chest swelling a little at the obvious truth that Tonks wanted her friends to know him, as well as with another rush of gratitude for the grace with which she'd handled this. "She said she was thrilled to meet me. After she tackled me to save me from a departmental memo. If we'd got a bit further with the undressing, I could have showed you quite an impressive bruise on my hip."
"I could've kissed it better, too."
Remus let his head fall back against the sofa cushions and groaned. "Curse my lack of foresight. Divination was my second worst subject, you know."
Becoming serious again, he released one of her hands to stroke her cheek. "If you really believe I...we...won't..."
He paused. He'd been about to repeat what he'd said to Sirius, about his reputation damaging hers, but for some reason, either his pride would not allow him to voice the fear to her, or he'd taken Sirius' reasoning to heart, and thought there was a chance she might reflect well upon him, but he couldn't say it to her now. There was only one thing that mattered in this moment.
"I trust you," he said, and leaned in to kiss her softly on the lips.
Tonks' hands came up to touch Remus' face as they kissed, and she slid her fingers into his hair as it deepened. If they were in any danger of growing hot and heavy again, they were denied the chance to find out by a fire cracking to life in the fireplace.
Breaking apart, they turned to see in the green flames across the tiny living room, the face of Molly Weasley gawping up at them from the grate. Though Remus' face was hot, he couldn't help but see the comedy in her bulging eyes as they darted from his unbuttoned shirt and midnight blue jumper slung over the arm over the sofa, to Tonks curled up next to him, in her dressing gown, her fingers tangled in his hair.
"Well," Molly said after a moment, smiling and apparently unruffled to have interrupted what she thought she'd interrupted. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I was just popping in to see if Tonks had got tied up with work and needed me to delay dinner. But I see I need to delay it for another reason altogether!"
Remus and Tonks both started to protest, but Molly shushed them.
"You two take your time making up. Everyone will understand." Her head bent to go, but then she glance back at them, looking alarmingly like Fred and George. "I'm glad I kept it a couples' party after all!"
And then, as suddenly as she had appeared, she was gone again. Remus and Tonks looked at each other; her face was as red as his felt, but while he burst out chuckling, her head lolled against his shoulder.
"Shall I have a little private chat with Molly to set her straight?" she asked.
"If it's all the same to you, I've no problem with everyone thinking we did rather more than kiss and make up," said Remus. "After all, it's true..."
Tonks looked up at him, her flush deepening but her eyes bright and telling him that it was from the heat of the memory, not regret for it. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her temple. "And anyway, it'll shut Sirius up asking me every time I come home from a date with you if we've done it yet."
Nestling against his chest, Tonks brought one of Remus' hands to her lips, then tilted her head back to look up at him. "I don't care if everyone thinks I'm the luckiest girl in the Order."
Remus was sure his grin resembled a Cheshire cat's, but he didn't care. "Shall we kiss for say, another quarter of an hour, then?"
Tonks snatched a cushion from the end of the sofa and whacked him in the face with it, then disengaged herself from his embrace.
"Seven minutes of heaven ought to suffice," she said, giving him a dangerously flirtatious glance over her shoulder. Dangerous in the sense that she stumbled over an unseen pair of boots in the path to her bedroom. "I've got to get dressed for this little card party. You're welcome to come and watch, if you like."
Remus did like.
And when they stepped out of the Floo at the Burrow, laughing and happy to have the excuse of dusting soot off each other to indulge their inability to keep their hands off, no one, Remus noted happily, seemed in any doubt of their togetherness, and everyone seemed very happy to see them in that state, with no trace of a problem ever having existed between them.
A/N: Once again, I can't think you all enough for reading; and if you let me know what you think of this new R-rated ending, Remus promises to spend a few R-rated minutes alone with you. Or, if you'd rather not contend with a jealous Auror, Remus could arrange for a few R-rated minutes with Sirius, who's unlikely to let things like trust issues put an early stop to things...;)